Back
by olansamuelle
Summary: Post "Kill them all" One-shot. She thought she would never see her again. She was wrong. Ilithyia/Lucretia.


**Title: **Back

**Rating: **T (Spartacus' kind of T)

**Notes: **originally written for the livejournal community spartacus2010's first comment ficfest. **Prompt**: And this is the part where we act like the ladies we'll bever be. **For those who already read it**: a couple of things added, to improve the whole thing. No changes in the mini-plot

**Summary: **Set after 1x13 ('Kill them all'). She never imagined seeing her again.

_**OOOOO**_

Ilithyia closed the doors after the last guest left, innocent act that rushed back sharp memories of her last night in Capua, a short stage in her life that even months later plagued her days and nights.

Now the life she was meant to live was but an unreachable dream.

She had buried away the horrible truth behind Licinia's disappearance, and saved her husband from an unwanted yet forced alliance with the lanista, but the deed was insufficient, and Claudius had still not taken her back as wife, only by pretences, and under the fact that she was still Senator Albinius' daughter, mere reason why he had accepted to shelter her.

Ilithyia had never felt so alone, and to her private disgrace, an added painful realization had slapped and shaken her, arrived in shape of dreams…nightmares. Dozed off, she had smiled thinking of it. Acknowledging she was not there anymore had forced her still confused mind to accept the fact that she was not in that place anymore. Horrified, she had then realized that her sorrow was not for her current situation, but from the recent past, of the place she had dreamed about, and the woman who ruled it. Her insides twisted, and Ilithyia had rushed outside, retching. She had thought, believed, that she hated it. Hated her. And her own body and mind cried her wrong. And now Lucretia was dead, there was no trade back, and now each passing day was a painful reminder of that.

Turning away from the silent doors, Ilithyia walked alone, no slave serving her at all times, towards the cubiculum Claudius had prepared for her, where she spent the nights while he fucked whores and slaves to quench his thirst, actively neglecting her the life she should own, and there was little more she could do to change that. Letting out a tired sigh, Ilithyia let her stola slid down her body and rest on the floor, and took off her tunica in order to change into something more comfortable.

"Your bareness remains as toned as I recall."

The sound of the familiar voice froze Ilithyia and she raised her trembling eyes to confirm with sight what the rest of her body and mind already knew. But it was not—Her heart pumped viciously against her breast. The shadow of a once ripe woman awaited among silk curtains, sitting on the triclinium with a well-known flare and grace, piercing blue eyes calmly wandering all over her naked body until they fixed on hers.

"Walk inside a house at close distance of a proper Roman, and no one will question your worth. Titus Iulius, I believe was his name."

A recently widowed senator. How did she—?

_**OOO**_

The pain had been numbed by the herbs, and when the moment she had been long awaiting for finally came, Lucretia was able to show no emotion and self control.

As she saw the terror reflected on Ilithyia's eyes she taunted her with silence as she let the younger woman shake when she saw the dagger firmly kept in hand, and wonder; Lucretia had worked hard to conceal her survival.

The change was obvious, certainly making an impression on Ilithyia, who knew her body like few. Lucretia had escaped death's grip by sheer luck, or by the whims of the gods, that she would never know. One single guest that had not been able to attend, an honourable man from Capua, delayed by business in Pompeii, had travelled to the villa with the first lights of the morning, set to apologize for his absence to the newest rising son in Capua. Awaiting greetings and promise of future invitations, he was welcomed by the stench of death, and as he walked aghast among the corpses, alert eyes caught movement and found her, as he recounted many times while she laid in bed, clinging on to life, hand clutched against the wound, face tensed by pain yet not letting go. He was certain it had been her will to live what saved her.

He was wrong. The minute the pain brought her back to consciousness leading to awareness of the events, Lucretia had wanted to die, yet lacked the will to grab a blade and rip herself open like Crixus should have done. No. What that man had seen was the pain of a woman impotent, trying to hold the life that, like sand, slid between her fingers, dying in a pool of crimson. Her child. Her miracle.

That pain had rooted inside her, and she learned that a mother never ceased being one, not even absent child. The knowledge had stabbed her again, day after day, night after night, her mind recalling Crixus looking at her with pained eyes that bore no regret when he thrust his blade like he had his cock so many times before, this time taking away what he had been commanded to give.

She would never be able to conceive again, the medicus had announced. The Gaul had cursed her beyond the reaches of his own mind. Memories of the child she would never have plagued her days, shifting life into some sort of painful slumber. And a new lesson was learned. Hate fuelled the weakest, and revenge ignited the strength.

It had not been that long ago, and yet here she was. Pale, her skin unable to hide protruding bones, were not for the stola she had carefully chosen for the event, fabric she was now purposely not wearing, exposing the calvary of her recovery. Confronting that who she had wanted once, and hated now.

"I…"

"I may live, yet I was not favoured by the gods," said Lucretia as she saw Ilithyia look at her body. "I survived." Concealing the stiffness still taking hold of her frame, Lucretia rose and took a step forward. Ilithyia did not move. "Yet you wanted me dead."

"I did not." The confession surprised Ilithyia as much as it did the older woman. She swallowed, the light of the candles reflecting on Lucretia's dagger. "Do you?," she asked, eyes on the blade.

Lucretia took three more steps. "Kill you?" Two more. Her nostrils caught the scent of the perfume still lingering on the blonde's skin. Lucretia quirked an eyebrow in that familiar manner she always suspected Ilithyia secretly loved. "No. You are still a valuable friend." With Ilithyia still unable to move, speak or even shout for help, Lucretia rose the knife and mirroring the moves Ilithyia had performed on Spartacus those months before, drawing drops of blood from him, she did the same on the woman's breast, feeling the stiffness grab hold of the patrician, fighting to keep her body from shaking. Calmly, Lucretia let her thumb slid upwards from the nipple to the small gash, letting the finger stain crimson, then using that hand to cup Ilithyia's face, never letting the blonde's eyes part from hers, watching in delight how she was still captive of the blue orbs nailed on her.

"Do you not wish to end this?"

Lucretia let the dagger fall on the ground, and let her hand travel upwards Ilithyia's stomach, halting around her breast. "End?" Lucretia could feel Ilithyia's heart beating faster. "No, my dear friend." Her thumb rubbed a well-known sensitive spot, tearing down Ilithyia's defences as the younger woman fought helplessly to conceal the pleasure rising within. "It has only started."

_**Fin.**_


End file.
